A Darker Dawn
by Fyrie
Summary: Edited for new rules: Spike returns to Sunnydale 10 years after he left, to find it a changed place.


TITLE: A Darker Dawn.   
AUTHOR: Fyre.   
RATING: Lowered to R for ff.net.   
CLASSIFICATION: Spike/Dawn, Joyce/Giles.   
SUMMARY: Spike returns to Sunnydale in 2010 to find everything has changed.   
SPOILERS: Lets just say Season 5, just to prevent backlash - and I haven't seen any of it, so if the characterisations suck, go figure :)   
DISTRIBUTION: Any sites that have my fic and anyone who wants it, just ask :)   
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of it, except the dellusional stuff tat's NEVER going to happen. (And Cat and Sylvie belong to me too!)   
FEEDBACK: Anywhere and anyhow is accepted :)   
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My answer to Collie's Future fic challenge - hope its good enough. If not, you can *sniff* have my cookie! Turned out a little angstyer than I planned, but heck, I was feeling morbid ;)   
DEDICATION: To Collie for being nutty enough to have 'YGTS' in the first place, to the cookie for being...well...cookie-like and to whoever nominated me for Best Xander fic in the dark fic awards for 'Unbreakable.' 

The sharp twist of the steering wheel spun the front of the De Soto in a hard arc, gunning forward at full speed.

'Welcome to Sunnydale - Enjoy your stay.'

Always such a polite town.

The brakes screeched, ripping through the stillness of the night, the metal crumpling again as the dust-coated black automobile reversed carelessly over the large, bright sign.

Only then, satisfied that sufficient damage had been done, the door swung outward, a booted foot stepping out of the car, it's owner lifting himself out and straightening up, the faint glow from the tip of his cigarette casting eerie shadows over his angular features.

Casting a glance down at the crushed sign, he inhaled a lazy drag, his tawny hair ruffled by the soft fingers of the breeze. Blowing twin streams of smoke from his flared nostrils, he grinned ruefully around. "Home, sweet home."

*

Sunnydale had changed.

Of course, it would in ten years, but the change wasn't just a visible one. The feeling, the aura of the whole town was something completely different. Darker, more intimidating than it had been in years gone by.

It had never been like this when *his* Slayer was around.

Her and her bunch of faithful groupies had kept that little light glowing in a place that would have – otherwise – been pitch dark. As dark as it was now.

The vampire exhaled a useless sigh. If things had changed so dramatically, if things had got so bad, then there was only one explanation for it, one thing that could possibly have let the darkness – so long held at bay – swamp the little town.

The Slayer. His Slayer. *His* Buffy.

She had to be gone. Dead.

In spite of the years, a swell of pain rose in his undead chest. He had loved her, in a freakishly perverted way, in the only way a demon could possibly love the person he was meant to hate with all his power: Masochism and fantasy.

No other human had the strength and power of a Slayer, especially not a Slayer like Buffy Summers and – although no vampire would want to admit it – it was an incredible feeling, being dominated by a tiny, female human. Even if it did mean dying, it was such a turn on to fight someone of equal strength to the death.

Getting to know her, this vampire had the chance to do what very few vampires survived long enough to – he got to know her, spent time with her, was befriended by her little family, sniffed her knickers...fell in love with her.

It was the scent of her knickers that got him.

One sniff and he was head-over-heels.

And she had rejected him. What a bloody surprise. And on Valentine's Day of all days, just because she thought her sister had a crush on him. *Him*. Spike, a.k.a William the Bloody, killer of two Slayers, quarter of the Scourge of Europe.

So – like the nonce he had become – he had nearly burst into pathetic tears, fleeing to find his dark Princess waiting for him, ready to accept him in spite of the thing that made him little more than a harmless puppy.

All too willing to leave the town that had shattered his solid and murderous unlife, he had embraced his one-time love. It had taken less than five years going from being a blood-sucking bastard who cared about nothing but Drusilla, to a biteless vampire in depraved love with the oldest Slayer on record.

But that had ended, when he left, nine years before.

Trailing after Drusilla and her new childe - or his own great grandsire, Darla - like a lapdog, he was fed the leftovers, called to Dru's bed whenever she tired of her latest pet, his long-standing love for her the only thing to make it bearable.

Until the rumours filtered in.

Just one or two every month, gradually culminating in the arrival of Harmony in Paris, in the summer of 2006, nearly four years before, determined to see Drusilla, Darla and – of course – her precious blondie bear.

The dozy bint had finally made it to France, he had thought. Wondering who she had whined into bringing her, he had tried not to let his emotions show when she explained why she had come to find them.

Even then, it had taken all this time for him to find the nerve to come back, to risk finding out if the news he had dreaded for so long was true. Six years of fighting the unexplained puul to return to the small, Californian town.

But now, just standing in the main street of Sunnyhell, he could see it. People were subdued, quieter, furtively eyeing the stranger in their midst with an acceptable level of fear and trepidation.

Maybe he should leave.

Hands in his pockets, he looked left, right, frowned. He didn't have any reason to stay here, if he was honest. With Dru and Darla gone, he didn't have anything to do anywhere at all, leaving him with the choice of sticking with miserable Sunnyhell or skipping out to more exotic and enticing locations.

The scent of fresh blood and the sound of a struggle temporarily made up his mind for him, his memories of the time with the Slayer returning to him one hundred fold.

He'd save one last innocent, just as a tribute to the brave bitch who had made his unlife a hell beyond mortal comprehension. Maybe drop in on Joyce, see how she was doing without the Slayer to keep her on her toes.

Running in the direction of the sounds, he chuckled. Always the dark alleys. Who gave a damn if the main street was deserted? When there's a good, dark alley, you just have to go with the stereotypes.

Letting his demon visage slide easily into place, he spotted the tussling pair easily: a large male vampire, no doubt a turned footballer and as thick as a brick: a tall, dark-haired, furious young woman, his victim. She was wearing functional pants and boots that allowed for freedom of movement, a long, leather duster – not unlike his own – concealing her body.

Yelling onscenities, one forearm pressed against his throat, the young woman was holding her own remarkably well, battering the howling demon across the head with a large, silver crucifix, but – unless she had some font of Slayer power – she wasn't going to get away.

"That's not nice." The newcomer remarked, leaning against the slime-coated wall for less than a second, pulling away with a hiss of revulsion. Bloody slime! It was one of those things you could never get out of clothing, no matter how much you washed it.

Both vampire and human turned to him, faces shadowed by the lights high above them, both clearly angry at being interupted by the strange creature who seemed to have appeared out of no where.

"Do I tell you how to eat?" The large vampire grunted, snarling as the girl landed another solid whack across his forhead, his skin bubbling.

"Doesn't look like eating to me, mate." The sandy-haired vampire replied nonchalantly, glancing at his nails carelessly. "She looks like she's gaving you free plastic surgery...only to make you uglier, not the other way around."

"If you're gonna make stupid comments, why don't you just piss off?" The dark girl suggested bluntly. Her body twisted, knee jerking between the larger vampire's legs, knocking him back a pace, with a groan.

The other vampire was on him in an instant, a stake plunging down between the footballer's shoulderblades, reducing the demon to a pile of dust that was gathered by the wind and swept carelessly away.

"Impressive fight, ducks." Straightening up, he dusted his hands down.

"I can take care of myself." Her voice rang back, strangely distant. The vampire turned to face her, only to find the alley deserted.

Spike shook his head with a small grin. "Trust me," He spoke to the empty passage, pivoting and walking back towards the main street. "To try and rescue a bloody ungrateful feminist who does a disappearing act as well as Angelus."

Ignoring the curious looks from passers-by, he wandered onwards, waves of memories washing over him.

He had to get to the place that was somewhere between one part of town...and another part of town. *Bloody hell! I don't believe that was my excuse! How pathetic a wanker was I?* He chuckled softly at the memory.

Nothing like a nine year absence to make the Wanker seem weaker, he mused.

*

Pulling the door open, Joyce cast a suspicious eye over the young man standing in the light of the hall. There was something familiar about him, but she just couldn't put her finger on it, something in those glinting blue eyes.

" 'Ello, Joyce." A wickedly sexy grin curved his mouth upwards, loose strands of dark blonde hair falling free from his ponytail.

"Do I...know you?" Blue jeans, a torso-hugging black t-shirt and a denim jacket covered his lean body, a body she was convinced should be garbed in black and red, possibly with a good chunk of black leather as well.

The young man chuckled. "Bloody hell, Joyce." He winked at her. "I knew you were getting old, but I didn't think you were senile, mum!"

The undeniably cocky British accent, the appropriate choice of words, the devilish gleam in icy blue eyes. How could she have ever forgotten this vampire? "Spike?" His face split into an even wider grin.

He moved forward to speak, only to find himself engulfed in a maternal embrace, Joyce hugging him as if he were her own long-lost son. Then, she stepped back, hands still on his shoulders, looking him up and down, just to make certain he had been taking care of himself.

"This is a new look for you." She tugged at his jacket with an amused smile.

"Well, the Slayer kept my bloody duster, didn't she?" Immediately, he regretted his words, Joyce's eyes clouding with pain. "Oh...luv, I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I came to say that I was sorry about her...well...about the Slayer..."

Her mother nodded, lowering her eyes momentarily. "It was almost six years ago." She replied, her voice hushed. "But it still hurts like hell when someone mentions her." She sighed, then lifted her head, forcing a smile. "How about a hot chocolate? For old time's sake?"

"But you don't know my chip's still active." He warned her.

"Spike," Looping her arm through his, she pulled him into the house, pushing the door shut behind them. "The first three times I met you, you didn't have a chip, so why should now make any difference at all?"

Allowing himself to be propelled to the kitchen by his adoptive mother, he chuckled. "So you were never scared of me?"

"The first time I met you, I was angry, more than afraid." She admitted, gesturing to a stool, the kitchen just the way he remembered it. "All I saw was a man with a strange face beating up my baby...I didn't know what you were."

"And you concussed me for a week." He grumbled, feigning a sullen scowl. He rubbed the back of his head over-dramatically. "Dru thought I was joking when I said the Slayer's mum and chums had beaten up on me."

"How is Dru?" Glancing over her shoulder at him, Joyce caught the imperceptible tightening of his jaw, his eyes falling.

"Dead." He hadn't meant it to sound so bald, so blunt, but there was nothing else he could think of to say. "A European Slayer...she was a suicidal little bitch...came into the lair while the group were on the hunt, poured petrol over the place, strapped grenades to her body and – as soon as she was found there – when the pack got back, she pulled the pins." He grimaced. "All because her boyfriend had been taken down by Dru."

Joyce shuddered, grateful that Buffy had never reacted so...violently to the deaths and departures of any of her partners and lovers. "You weren't there?" She asked softly.

"I was on the look out for the new Watcher." He replied sheepishly. "After spending time with the Scoobies here, I kind of liked being a good guy once in a while." He gave a dry laugh. "I wonder what happened to them..."

Joyce returned to the other stool beside the island. "They all left." She said. "After Buffy..." She gave him a tired look. "Giles is still in Sunnydale though...the Council re-instated him, being the best Watcher and asked him to stay as a Guardian for the new Slayers and Watchers..." A sad smile crept onto her lips. "I asked him to stay."

"He's a good bloke." Spike accepted the mug of hot chocolate, raising his eyes to Joyce as he noticed the multi-coloured marshmallows floating on the surface. She shrugged, smiled. "So, do they have a new Slayer stationed here, then?"

Sipping her drink, she nodded. "They move on so quickly." There was a note of bitterness in her voice. Hardly surprising. The moment her daughter was in the ground, someone had taken her place already. "She's the ninth one we've had since Buffy...not including the one's that were posted all over Europe between them..."

"More than nine?" That was a shocking statistic, considering that Buffy had lasted six years, but since her death, so many Slayers had passed in as many years as blondie had done the job. "How long has the newest one been kicking about?"

"She's a good one." Joyce reluctantly admitted. "She was called after Faith's third replacement was killed. She's lasted a year so far, with a lot of help from a couple of her friends who arrived with her. Giles says she's a lot like Buffy. Independant, stubborn, gutsy."

Spike reached over and squeezed the woman's hand gently. "But she could never really replace Buffy, could she?" Joyce lowered her eyes sadly. "Your daughter was the best I've known, Joyce. I mean it. Lasting seven years – that's longer than any other Slayer ever."

"You know," Her eyes were fixed on the frothy surface of her drink. "Sometimes, I wish I had been oblivious to all the supernatural things in life. I wish I didn't have to deal with the fact that one daughter was a Slayer and the other was a ball of energy that was 'made' into my daughter to hide it from a Godess."

"You mean...Dawn?"

"She's still here." Joyce smiled. "I still have one of my babies...she may have been 'made', but she will always be mine now." Setting her mug down, she reached for the phone. "Which reminds me...Giles will want to see you. He's been needing some help..."

Spike twisted his face in a frown. "Actually, I was just passing through, thought I'd stop by to see how you were..." Joyce's face fell. "But, since you pouted so nicely, I suppose I can stick around for a while longer and help wrinkle-boy."

"You can stay here." Joyce's flashed a smile. Dialling the familiar number, she added. "I'm sure the new Slayer would like to meet you too. You're pretty famous in the Council Records, you know."

Pulling a face, the vampire focused on his drink, while Joyce talked animatedly to Giles. So, the squirt was still kicking about? He thought she would have been bumped off by that Glory bitch, but apparently, she had lost her key permanently.

"They'll be round as soon as possible." Joyce re-drew his attention. "Dawn's been helping with Cat's training, so she'll come with them. They just got back from a sweep ten minutes ago and they need to get cleaned up."

Spike's eyebrow arced. "You let the brat help the Slayer?"

"She's not a brat anymore, Spike." The girl's mother smiled indulgently. "You haven't seen her for a long time now. She doesn't even live here anymore. She'll always be my sweet baby, even though she's all grown up."

He hadn't though about that. Joyce had looked the same as ever, although the tiny crows feet around her eyes were a little more pronounced than he remembered during her illness. Still, she was recognisable as the woman who had become his confidante.

Spending so much time with vampires, he had forgotten how humans aged, changed with the passing years.

"So, luv, tell me how you've been since I skipped town." He settled his attention on the middle-aged woman before him, noticing the small signs of age that were starting to pick at her features, hints of grey creeping into her curly hair. She looked and smelled far healthier than he remembered though.

Cupping his chin in his hand, he propped his elbows on the worktop and listened to her, as she talked lightly about the passed few years.

A knock on the door interrupted them about five minutes later and Joyce excused herself to go and let the new arrivals in, leaving the vampire to finish the cooling dribbles of hot chocolate that remained, picking the melty blobs of marshmallow out with his fingers.

"Spike," Turning to face the trio, the vampire frowned as the petite girl betwen the two adults doubled over with laughter. "Um..." Subtley wiping her upper lip, Joyce tried not to smile as the vampire sheepishly wiped his chocolatey mustache off hastily. "This is Cat, the Slayer, and her Watcher, Sylvie Umoba."

" 'Lo." He glared at the grinning girl. Like every other Slayer, she was a cute little thing, sweet and harmless-looking. Short, with bright, carrot-orange hair and an overabundance of freckles, she looked like the annoying cousin everyone had. Bluey-green eyes glinted with impishness, the gap between her front teeth only adding to her cheeky demeanour.

"So you're William the Bloody..." Sylvie eyed him speculatively, looking nothing like the average Watcher, tall and slender, her dark skin making her gleaming white teeth shine in her smile. She looked about thirty-something and was wearing casual jeans. "I've read about you."

The vampire's scarred eyebrow rose. "Said that to the Anointed One once," He murmured, a thoughtful look on his face. "Killed him a few days later...dopey little git was annoying and he wanted to stop me having fun."

"Does that mean I can kill me Watcher?" Spike almost groaned out loud, every stereotype of the Irish flooding back to him. They were meant to be red haired and exotic, not carrot-topped imps with gappy teeth and naughty eyes. "She always spoils me fun!"

"And steals your lucky charms?" The vampire grinned.

"Ye're lucky the council say ye're harmless, Billy." The girl glared up at him, but he got the feeling the angry facade was more for show than anything. "Otherwise, I'd show ye my special trick with me stake."

Taking a step closer, he bent and looked her in the eye. "Promises, promises." He met her gaze, his expression deadpan. Her gappy grin flashed up at him again.

"I t'ink I could be forced into likin' ye." The new Slayer confided. She looked up at her exoticlooking Watcher. "What d'ye t'ink, Sylvie?"

"I think he could be bearable." The black woman replied with a soft smile, her eyes taking in the sandy-haired vampire's appearance. "Giles told me how much you helped them in the past, Spike." She extended one slim hand. "I'm pleased to finally meet you."

"Where is the old fart, now that you mention him?" Shaking her hand, he looked from her face to the Slayer's.

"Nice to see you're as well-mannered as ever, Spike." The male voice from the door caught him offguard. He pivoted, grinning wickedly over at the older Englishman. 

Shrugging, he said. "Why change the habit ot a lifetime, Watcher? Do I have to remind you that I'm evil and I hate everyone in this poxy town?" The smile on his face belied his words, his eyes dancing. "What's a miserable old sod like you still hanging round a hole like this?"

"Waiting for you t-to show your hide, so I can stake it." In spite of everything, Giles had to admit that he had grown rather fond of the once-bleached vampire, while he had been playing for the good guys. He was almost like a rebellious, undead son.

"Lying wanker." Spike grinned again, sauntering over and giving the Watcher a hug. "And don't think that means I fancy your wrinkly arse, mate."

"Thank God for that!" Giles slapped a hand over his heart. "I never want to have you sharing my shower again. I couldn't cope."

The two men exchanged wicked grins, knowing what their implication left the three women thinking. Time for a subtle subject change. "Still got that smashing mid-life crisis machine of yours on the road, then?"

"Actually, no." Spike smirked. He knew it couldn't have lasted. "I traded it in...for a Harley Davidson. It's bloody marvellous."

"You? A Harley?"

Giles nodded, his smirk matching the vampire's. "I don't get a chance to use it very often though. A young lady we both know prefers it..." There was the roar of an engine outside the house. "And speaking of the little devil..."

"That'll be Dawn." Joyce added. 

Spike was bemused. Completely baffled. Okay, he had been away almost ten years, but surely little Dawnie hadn't changed that much? Dawn...tiny, annoying little sister of the Slayer, always getting him in trouble.

"Damn it, Ripper." A woman's voice rang in through the open front door. "How many times do I have to tell you to get that brake repaired? You want me to fucking well break my neck when I take the corners?"

That was Dawn?

"Dawn, honey." Joyce walked to the kitchen doorway and leaned out into the hall. "There's someone here who would lie to see you. He decided to come by and pay a flying visit."

"He?" There was a momentary pause, then the sound of loud footsteps clomping down the hallway. "Which one of the uncles is it this time? And is he mortal, werewolf, adoptive, zombie or biological?"

"None of the above." Joyce stepped aside, letting the girl see.

Stopping short, the brunette stared at the sandy-haired vampire, her hand rising shakily to her gaping mouth, the other gripping the front of the black, thirty year old duster. "You!"

"Bloody hell!" Spike tried to shake his head, but couldn't tear his eyes from the girl. She was that crazy bitch from the alley. It was her! The little brat who had driven him nuts consistently, so many years ago. "Niblet?"

She took a wary step back. "Wh-what did you call me?" She asked, her tone uncertain.

"Niblet." He couldn't help but stare. Little Dawnie, all growed up and wearing leathers and *his* duster. She looked bloody incredible.

Hesitantly, she looked him over. "Spike?" Her voice sank to a whisper, her face paling. "You're alive?" Her face went through a series of emotions, the colour leaving her cheeks.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Not knowing exactly why, he held out his arms, the brunette throwing herself at him and hugging him tightly. She almost matched him in height, her dark hair washing over his face, her arms around his neck. "Nice to see you again, shorty."

Pulling back, she slapped him across the chest. "You left!" She said, glaring at him accusingly. "You left us all. We needed you here, Spike. You just disappeared – we didn't know if you were dead or what."

He snorted. "It's not like anyone really cared." He said. He didn't want or need to feel guilty now. He dug through his pockets and withdrew a cigarette. "You look good in my duster. Get it from big sis, eh?"

"She didn't want it." Shrugging, the slim brunette's eyes looked strangely empty. "It was too big for her anyway. And she sure as hell didn't need it when she was dead and rotting in the ground, did she?"

Joyce turned her face away, tears burning in her eyes. "Dawn, luv, don't talk like that." Spike murmured, still close enough to her for only her to hear. "It upsets your mother."

Dark eyes blazed at him. "Like you care what we feel." She hissed, spinning on heel and stalking away, the sound of her feet pounding on the stairs loud enough to be heard in the silent kitchen.

Giles touched Joyce's shoulder gently. "She didn't mean it." He didn't even sound half-convinced, his expression angry and saddened.

"So, people, what the hell did I miss?" Spike turned to the quartet, the awkward silence engulfing the kitchen again. The vampire sighed. "Come on. I'm here, I might as well stick around and do some damage...but I'll have to know what turned the Niblet into a psychotic basket case."

"Sylvie, perhaps you and Cat should..." Giles inclined his head towards the door, his worry lines deepening across his brow.

"We'll do one more sweep, then head back to the apartment." Sylvie agreed, ushering the petite Slayer towards the door. "Good night, Mrs Summers, Giles...Spike."

Cat paused at the door. "She's not so bad." She said. "She just doesn't like to let people see her when she's upset." Sylvie pushed her charge forward. "Bye, Spike! G'night Mrs Summers! Mr Giles!"

The door was swiftly pulled shut by the girl's Watcher, leaving the two humans and the vampire in subdued silence.

"I knew this would happen." Joyce's voice finally shattered the silence. Sinking down on one of the stools, she ran a hand through her hair and inhaled a breath to ease her frustration. "She still can't get over it."

"Over what?" Spike moved behind Joyce, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly.

Joyce glanced back at him. "Buffy's death." She whispered harshly. "Dawn...she was there when Buffy died and she tried as hard as she could to save her, but she didn't have the supernatural strength...the strength you had..."

"She blames me, doesn't she?"

Giles rubbed his glasses on his shirt, a gesture he had never grown out of. "Buffy believed you'd gotten yourself killed, Spike." He said. "She was never the same after that. She had come to count you as a friend and losing you...it hurt more than she cared to admit."

"But what does that have to do with me and her dying?" Forming words seemed near impossible, his throat constricting. He had hurt the Slayer, when he thought he was doing what was best for her.

Giles and Joyce exchanged glances. "After defeating Glory, in the rage of losing you, there was a couple of years of peace on the Hellmouth," Giles explained. "Then, a large group of all species of demon decided it was time she went down. She was too powerful, they knew."

Joyce continued the story. "They caught Dawn, used her as bait in a trap to catch Buffy. They outnumbered her and she was actually beating them, until one of them mentioned your name. The said..." She paused, inhaled a breath, spoke. "They said that you were in charge of them, you were alive and had set them on her for being spurned."

"Fucking hell!" His game face rose, a surge of white-hot anger streaming through him. Spinning around, he gripped the edge of the worktop, his knuckles whitening. "Those bloody mother fuckers! I'll kill them all for that. I swear, I'll rip their fucking hearts out. She was *my* Slayer. My fucking Slayer! Mine!" Using his years of carefully developed control, he forced his anger down, his voice still low, rumbling with anger. "What happened?"

Giles leaned forward. "They kept taunting her about it, saying she was a stupid bitch for loving a demon." His face was hard, Joyce's bowed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Dawn said she broke down, she couldn't accept it, couldn't find the strength to fight anymore...then, they..." He trailed off awkwardly.

"They what?" Despite his unnaturally cool voice, the barely restrained anger shone in his gold-tinted eyes.

"Raped her, in whatever way their species did." Spike turned his back again, his chest heaving with low snarls of fury. "Tortured her until she was passed saving, mentally and physically, then they let her and Dawn go...but only after telling both girls that they didn't know where you were. You just seemed like a good topic for conversation, apparently."

"They did all that in front of Dawn?" Giles nodded slowly, warily gauging the furious vampire's reaction. "No wonder the chit hates me." Demonic gold eyes glanced back at the two. "Did she last much longer?"

Joyce's muffled sob spoke measures, stabbing at his undead heart. This was all his fault. The family was torn apart because of him.

"She survived for almost two weeks, but even with her healing abilities, she just...it wasn't enough...the Doctors were amazed she even got through the night..." Giles lowered his head, swallowed hard. "Her internal organs had been ripped apart...she couldn't be touched by anyone...she was completely broken..."

The vampire's knees felt like they had been turned to jelly, his legs crumpling beneath him weakly. Gripping his head between his hands, his claws sinking into his scalp, low snarling sobs tore through him. "My fault..." He gasped painfully. "Bloody hell...it's my fault...I'm so sorry, Joyce...I'm so sorry..."

"No, Spike." The Slayer's mother slid off the stool, kneeling down beside him. "No. You couldn't have known. You couldn't have." She pulled him into her arms, rocking him gently, his wracking, guttural cries terrifying. His arms wrapped around her, his ridged face pressed against her chest, his bloody tears rolling down his cheeks.

Giles joined the two on the smooth floor, rubbing Spike's back soothingly. "It wasn't your fault, Spike." He added his voice to Joyce's. "You didn't know what they were going to do. You didn't know how she felt..."

In the shadows of the hall, a slender, dark figure gazed in at the scene, her own unshed tears still stinging in her blue eyes, yet never making it to her cheeks.Somehow, seeing him feeling guilty should have made her feel better, but it didn't.

It only made things much worse.

Turning, she walked silently back up the stairs, returning to the room she used when she stayed at home, locking the door and curling up on the bed, hugging Mister Gordo to her chest, alone with her thoughts, long into the night.

*

I can't believe he came back.

It's been so long. So much has happened, so much has changed and I finally got to where I want to be, doing what I want to do then he rolls back into town and shatters my world again, leaving it to crash down around my ears.

He's changed. 

Long, sandy hair reaches his shoulders. He must have run out of people to bleach it for him. At least he doesn't *look* so like the Spike I used to know. Can't decide if I like it or if I hate it, though, but then, I can't decide if I like him or hate him. 

Then there's his clothes. Ever since abandoning his duster at the mercy of the Summers girls, he seems to have gone in for denim in a big way. Looks good on him. Makes his eyes stand out. And, again, I would never have recognised him as the person I knew as Spike. 

Buffy loved that duster of his.

Missed the bastard who left it behind though. Missed him more than she even let on to mom and Giles. I really do think she loved him, in a crazy way. She always did have a thing for HOTT vampires.

I wanted so much to be able to blame him for killing her. After all, they did use his name to break her, they did use his name to mock her...but they used me to catch her, to lure her in and do what they did. 

It was no more his fault than it was mine, but I needed someone to blame for what she was put through, a soulless demon who shouldn't care...but he did. When he just found out even the background of what happened...

I thought I had seen some pretty horrible things, but nothing – nothing in the world – could compare with what they did to my sister. Seeing her blood, so much blood, everywhere...they were laughing, enjoying it.

Her screams still sometimes wake me in the night. 

I didn't think my big sister was scared of anything, you know. She was the Slayer, the Chosen One, the gutsiest and most powerful girl in the whole world, but then I heard her screaming and I just wanted to die.

What no one else knows is that we were left alone, locked in the warehouse for almost three days after they hurt her. I was left, to watch her, to see how much she had been hurt, but there was nothing I could do.

They left us, left us to rot.

I didn't know what to do. I thought I was smart and tough, but seeing my sister, lying on the stone floor, too injured to even cry...I didn't know what else I could do, apart from hold her until we were recued. I was so certain we would be and she would be okay, but I touched her and the screams...

She lost consciousness eventually, her body shutting down to let her healing abilities kick in, but even then, when anyone touched her, she would thrash out, screaming and trying to escape their hold.

Pity the paramedics who were trying to help her.

I didn't want to leave her, couldn't bear the thougt of not seeing her again. I knew she was going to die. Part of me wanted her to...I didn't want to see her try to live with the memory of what happened.

She never regained consciousness, which was a blessing. I would never have to look into those eyes, desperately begging me to help, knowing I couldn't do a fucking thing to save her from those things.

I wanted to blame him. It was easy, it was efficient and he wasn't here, so I didn't have to face him at all, hear the name that made me remember all the words that shattered my sister's heart and mind, the name Spike.

Until now.

Until, I saw him crying.

I've never seen a vampire crying before. Most I just dust, but he looked like he was being torn apart from the inside out, blood pouring down his face, his whole body shaking from head to foot. It was the most incredible display of grief I've ever seen.

After being a witness to that, I don't know how I can face him. I want to, I want to be there to comfort him, let him do the same for me, to be like the Dawn he remembers me being, but his name always rises to haunt me, to remind me of what I saw. I'll never be like I was. Nothing ever will be.

I know he hurts as much as I do, sees things the way I do, but I can't help thinking of him as the one who killed Buffy. For all I know, he could be hating his name as much as I do right now, but still, I don't want to confront what happened, relive the memories, until it's over.

Why is everything always so fucking complicated?

*

"S...Spike?"

Curled on his side, on the bed that had once been Buffy's, the vampire flinched at the sound of the name he no longer wanted to claim as his own. "Don't call me that. Leave me alone." Three days since his arrival, he had barely moved from the bed, unable to see passed the fact that Buffy's death had been his fault.

The owner of the voice stepped into the room, pushing the door half-shut behind her and moving to the bed, kneeling down on the edge of the matress, tucking her hair behind her ear as she peered over his shoulder. "Can I talk to you?" He grunted. "Mom's worried…Spike?"

In a heartbeat, she was flipped onto her back, pinned down by a snarling vampire, golden eyes blazing at her. "Don't *ever* call me that again." He hissed dangerously, his hands bruisingly gripping her upper arms.

"It's your bloody name." She hissed in response, blinking back tears of pain, his hands tightening, her hunch about his self-loathing apparently correct. "Spike, the fucking vampire who loved the Slayer so much it fucking well killed her in the end. Accept it."

His eyes narrowed. "That's the reason, isn't it?"

The girl wriggled beneath him, trying to pull free. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. Let me go, you bastard."

"You do know what the hell I'm talking about." He growled, his fangs glinting in the dull light filtering in from the hall. "You see me as my name – the name that killed Buffy. That's why you blame me."

"Yeah, right!"

Spike lowered his head close to hers. "Luv, if I wanted the Slayer dead, I could have done it without a hoard of demons." His mouth brushed chillingly near her ear. "I could kill you right now and leave you to be found here."

"But the chi..."

The vampire smiled his fangful grin. "The battery died a year after I left Sunnyhell. I could have come back and killed all of you, but – Good Lord – look! You're all alive and bloody kicking, aren't you? Doesn't that fucking well tell you something, little girl?"

Staring up at him, she felt her stomach twist in fear. "Let me up." She whispered. "Please, Sp...please?"

"Call me Will." The vampire said softly, swinging back to sit against the headboard of the board, his face shifting back into the human planes. Resting his hand on his upraised knees, he sighed softly. "C'mere, Niblet." He held out his arms. "I won't hurt you, luv."

Shaking her head, she glared at him, rubbing her arms. "Go to hell." She spat. Why couldn't you just stay away? It would have been so easy, if you hadn't come back...why couldn't you just leave us to get on with our lives...why...?"

"I heard about your sister, pet." He said, his voice neutral. "I didn't want to believe it, but I had to come and see. Curiousity, I suppose." He eyed her. "I thought you would've liked to have seen an old mate."

"You were never a 'mate', Spi-Will." Her voice was tense, strained. More so than he had noticed before.

He pushed himself to his feet, walked to the window and drawing back the heavy drapes, the moonlight caressing his features lovingly. "Do you really have any friends you can relate to, though, Niblet?"

"Of course I do!" She said, indignant. 

"No," He cast a lingering glance back at her, the unwavering strength of his gaze making her feel uneasy, like he could see straight into her mind. "Do you have anyone that you can tell everything? Even about the days of Buffy's attack?"

She shivered. "I don't want to talk about it." She whispered hoarsely.

"You're afraid of something like that happening to you, aren't you, luv?" His voice was gentle, soothing. "Don't worry, it's natural, you know. You saw what it did, seeing her when she thought someone she cared about had done that."

Shaking her head, she hugged her knees. "No."

Pushing the window open, Spike leaned on the frame, looking out at the clear sky. Something was eating away at the chit, something inside. "Luv, you don't have to agree with me, but listen to what I'm saying. See if it makes sense..." She dared to glance at him. "Buffy trusted me, didn't she?"

"She was always stupid."

Ignoring her words, he continued. "When she thought she had been betrayed, it broke her, didn't it?" Dawn reluctantly nodded. "Then she got hurt, didn't she?" Another nod. "You don't want to get close to anyone, in case they do the same thing, am I right?"

"What do you know?"

"One word." Spike looked down into the street. "Drusilla."

Burying her face against her knees, the young woman forced down a sob. "You don't know me." She whispered. "You don't know anything about me."

The vampire was kneeling before her in an instant, his cool fingertip lifting her chin. "Then let me know you, little one." He spoke softly, his thumb brushing down her pale cheek. "You need someone to trust, someone you can talk to."

Her eyes met his, clouded with tears. "What if I don't want someone to talk to?" She asked, slowly raising a hand to touch his face. He nodded in understanding. Leaning a little closer, she let him wrap her in an embrace. "I just want to forget. Forget everything."

"I know, Niblet." Murmuring against her dark head, he left her snuggle against his chest, his arms pulling her closer. "Cry if you want to. You might feel better if you do."

Nodding, nibbling on her thumb nail, she felt his hand brushing over her hair, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. He was grieving, she knew, but he had let it out. She had been bottling it up for years.

She hadn't let herself cry, had vowed she wouldn't until every one of the creatures that hurt her sister was in the ground.

"Not yet." She managed to form the words. She felt the vampire's frown rather than seeing it and tilted her head slowly. "I have my reasons." There was a long silence, her fingers running up and down the ridges of his muscular chest beneath the shirt. "Will you be there, when I'm ready? You won't say you'll there, then run out on me?""

"If you want me to stick around, I will."

"Will you help me to get there?"

The vampire noded. "Tell me what I have to do, luv, and I'll do what I can."

"It's simple really." She spoke against his chest, her cheek pressing against his firm abs. "I want you to help me get revenge." The vampire stiffened, his hand stilling. "You up for some serious demon ass kickings, Will?"

"You know you don't even have to ask, Niblet." He allowed himself a chilling smile, holding his little ally close. "They won't know what's hit them."

*

"Upper cut." One freckled fist followed the command. "Handspring." A carrot-topped ball of energy flipped over easily. "Can-can!" Two legs performed the dance quickly. "And finish it off with a backflip."

Almost instantly, the girl flipped and landed square on the new arrival, straddling his waist, a stake to his chest. "Ooh! Spike! Sorry!"

The vampire grinned wryly at her. "Remind me never to sneak up on you, luv." He lifted her off and deposited her on the floor. "And it's Will. Try and remember, I get sick of telling you that it's Will, you know. Its been Wil for a year now...I tell ya, you mess around with railroad implements once and no one ever lets you live it down!"

"What?"

"His name, dummy." Dawn put in, from her position, sitting on the small bench. She was involved in a lot of the Slayer training, mainly learning to defend herself better against the dark creatures of the night.

Since the vampire's return and name change, Dawn's entire nature had lightened up, the pair of them going out on demon hunts together, spending most of their waking hours together, even when involved in Cat's training. 

"You know, luv, I'm going to have to find a way to keep that delectable mouth of yours shut soon, if you don't stop being so bloody cheeky." Dawn stuck her tongue out at him, tossing and catching one of the small daggers. "Is that a challenge?"

Cat grinned. "You couldn't shut her up, even if you wanted to." She confided in the vampire, who had become her main sparring partner.

"Wanna bet?" Sauntering over to Dawn's side, he draped an arm around her waist. "Niblet, the brat there tells me I can't shut you up. You wanna put a bet in, before I prove her wrong? It could be worth a bob or two."

The brunette cast a disdainful look at him. "You would think a vampire as dumb as you would have learned some form of humility, after a hundred and thirty six years of looking like a complete idiot."

"I take it that means you don't think I can keep you quiet..."

"Rig..." Her words were cut off by the vampire's mouth descending on hers, silencing her easily. Her hands futiley smacked his chest, but not for long, as his skilful tongue teased her lips open, seducing hers. 

Only drawing back to let her breath, he swiftly stepped out of range of any flying projectiles, a cocky little grin on his face. She was motionless, a dazed, but pleased expression on her face, her lips swollen from the kiss.

"Told ya." He shot at the Slayer, his eyes glinting devilishly. Turning, he sauntered towards the door of the gym, only to hear the sound of feminine footsteps chasing after him. Prepared for a slap, he paused, turned, only for a hot mouth to catch his.

Dawn's hands slid up his body, twisting into his hair, her tongue doing battle with his, his hands coming to life and leaping to her buttocks, jerking her hard against his body, a low growl of pleasure rumbling through him.

Gasping, the girl ripped herself away, breathless. 

"What was that for?" Will managed to ask, half-glad, half-annoyed that his jeans were too tight for anything to move.

She shrugged, eyes glinting. "Fun?" She suggested.

"Sounds good to me." He said. He wanted her, more than he could recall even wanting the Slayer. There had to be a law against blobs-of-energy-that-became-human-and-the-Slayer's-sister being so damn dark and mysterious and so bloody hot.

She glanced towards the door, a tiny frown wrinkling her smooth forehead. "Will?" She squinted into the darkness. "You remember that last guy...?" He nodded. "I think he's come to pay a visit..."

"What about our fun?" The vampire took her hand in his, feigning a pout. 

"When I'm ready." She purred in soft, seductive promise. To hear that voice again, Will knew he would jump through hoops of fire and swim in Holy Water. "But now, we have someone else to get rid of."

The vampire nodded, trying to work through what had just happened. He had snogged the Slayer's sister – not just any Slayer, the one he had loved. He hadn't just done it for the bet, he knew without a doubt.

Ever since that night in the alley, the first night he had got back, he had wanted her. Seeing her in his duster, before he even knew who she was, he was knocked undead by her dark hair, dark eyes and the leather.

Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he caught a small smile creep onto her lips. If she was right, then it was almost over.

Then – and only then – would she finally be able to get on with any kind of a life. Her sister's death at the hand of forty five demons would have been avenged by one young human and her vampire companion.

And it had only taken seven years.

It would end tonight, of that, the vampire was certain. Then, he mused, catching sight of the brunette eyeing him, it would be a new beginning for both of them.

*

Her dark hair spread across the pillow in silken waves, her cheeks flushed with emotion, her barely fallen tears still drying on her cheeks.

They had managed to stagger into the girl's room, locked in a fierce kiss, which had led to the tangled embrace they now found themselves in. Her hands raked over his back, her nails leaving deep red ridges on his alabaster skin. The vampire hissed in pleasure, as she pulled him closer.

Kissing her deeply, he drew back, his eyes fixed on her face. "Dawn?" His voice was husky with need, with desperation for completion.

Twining her fingers through his loose hair, she tilted her head, baring her throat, her breath escaping in shallow gasps. "I trust you, Will." She whispered, meaning what she said for the first time in almost a decade, her words bringing a smile to his face. "I love you."

"I love you too, Niblet." He ran his tongue over her pulsepoint, letting his demon rise, his fangs lengthening and scraping over her throat. Sinking his razor-sharp teeth into the sweat-sheened flesh of her throat, he moaned as her hot blood exploded onto his tongue.

The pain, her blood, everything was too much.

Going over the edge together, both of them cried out their pleasure, clinging to one another. Panting and shivering, her shaking hands drawing his head down to hers.

In spite of his demon visage, she covered his mouth with her own, a fresh tide of tears pouring down her cheeks. "Never leave me, Will." She said softly, shifting her head to let him lap at the wound on her neck.

"Never, Niblet." He whispered. "I lost one person I loved before because I left. I never want to lose you. Never."

Running her hand over his head, she smiled contentedly, the vampire wriggling down to pillow his head on her breasts, his soft purring buzzing ticklishly against her stomach, raising a soft giggle from his twenty four year old lover.

*

Glancing around the door, Joyce smiled softly.

Cuddled together, her two super-natural adopted children were fast asleep. Wrapped in the tangle of sheets, Dawn's face was tranquil for the first time since Buffy's death, her head resting on Will's motionless chest.

The Slayer's mother sighed. She had lost her beautiful Buffy, so soon after losing Spike. Dawn looked like she was determined to follow her sister to the grave, in her hidden pain. It had almost killed Joyce to see it.

But now, she had her two other babies back, to take care of and they – in turn – would take care of each other.

Closing the door quietly, she walked down the hall to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her and sliding into the bed. "I had my doubts, but you were right." She confided, gently kissing her companion.

"I told you I could still work the old mojo from time to time." He drew her into his arms. "They needed each other and it was for a pure cause...apart from the shagging."

She smiled tiredly. "You and your one-track mind. I thought you were meant to be all stiff-upper lip and stuff like that."

"I prefer stiff-upper something else." His green eyes glinted.

"What is it with British men being perpetually horny?" Joyce allowed herself to be pulled into a lazy embrace, warm, familiar arms circling her waist. Rupert smiled fondly down at her, kissing her on the tip of her nose.

"I'm not sure, love." He remarked, maintaining his deadpan exterior as best he could. "But whatever it is, it's made for two very happy Summers women."

And it continued to do so, for a good many years.


End file.
